


The Morality of Monsters

by constellationqueen



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Superpowers, at least in my heart it's akashi/kuroko, it's probably more implied tho, kuroko gets hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constellationqueen/pseuds/constellationqueen
Summary: When they were children, they were called Miracles. As adults, they’re simply monsters.Kuroko wanders off in the middle of a friendly game of street ball, sending the rest of the Miracles into a panic. When they find him, it's worse than they thought.
Relationships: Akashi Seijuurou/Kuroko Tetsuya
Comments: 16
Kudos: 319





	The Morality of Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my hell of trying to cram a whole bunch of plot into as few words as possible. hopefully it's like.... not too confusing or too much™

It’s uncharacteristically warm for this early in June, the sun beating down from a crystal blue sky as nearby songbirds try to outpace the cicadas. Tetsuya feels heavy with the heat, and, despite his lack of movement, the humidity brings unwanted sweat to his temples and throat. He’s lightheaded, but he’s been that way since this morning, and it’s not anything new to begin with – it’s frequently a side effect of his power, as if becoming practically invisible renders his head a little weightless sometimes. That’s fine. He’s enjoying himself enough just watching the rest of his family play basketball in the park’s court.

Lately, getting their free days to match up has been complicated. They’re slowly integrating into society, slowly relearning manners and proper gut instincts to a number of different stimuli, which is a daunting task for seven people raised to be weapons. At least they can turn their powers off. Well, mostly, at least.

“Kise-kun,” Tetsuya says, a soft warning that everyone hears no matter how focused on the game they are. Aomine and Midorima immediately round on Kise, glaring and pointing accusing fingers while Kise smiles sheepishly and tries to convince everyone that it wasn’t intentional. They only have one rule when they’re having a friendly competition – no powers. So whether Kise’s telling the truth or not doesn’t matter; he’s still getting an earful for cheating.

Sometimes, their powers leak out of them. There’s always a slight bleeding, a shade of their true potential that makes it obvious to anyone looking that they’re not quite human. Some of them have it worse than others, but they’ve all heard enough whispers and read enough news articles to know that they’re nothing but freaks in the eyes of the general public. True, there’s also a certain level of pity when the topic comes up – they were experimented on as children, after all, with the “treatments” starting before they turned three. All of them were taken from orphanages so that no one could miss them if they died. And many of them did. Tetsuya, Kagami, Aomine, Akashi, Kise, Midorima, and Murasakibara are all that’s left out of a starting pool of exactly thirty-one.

When they were children, they were called Miracles. As adults, they’re simply monsters.

Maybe reading Tetsuya’s mind, or maybe just checking up on him, Akashi catches Tetsuya’s eye and smiles.

They’re all varying levels of powerful, but Akashi’s their leader for a reason. He took to the “treatments” better than the rest, and because of that, he ended up with too much power – so much that his personality split just to hold it all. This Akashi is predominantly telepathic; the other Akashi can see the future.

But to Tetsuya, they’re both just… Akashi, even if his personality’s a little different between the two. Akashi’s getting better at changing them out, at behaving as both, and that’s more than enough. Tetsuya helps how he can.

While the others are bickering over whether Kise’s infraction is great enough to warrant the ball going to the other team, Tetsuya tips his head back and blinks at the sky. It’s been over three years since they were “rescued” from the compound and “released” into society with very little rehabilitation. The initial intent of the government was for the seven of them to split up, a decision driven by fear of what they could accomplish together, so they were separated right away, dropped off in different parts of the country and abandoned. They’d been taught to hate each other, in those few months before release. All of them except Tetsuya, who was easily forgotten, and Kagami, who had always worked hard to notice Tetsuya and listen to what he said.

Tetsuya had found Kagami by accident a few months after their release, and they decided to stick together. Tetsuya, at least, benefitted from being with Kagami, because Kagami always seemed to be actively looking for Tetsuya, who so easily faded away. But Kagami talked to him, and Tetsuya answered, so he never quite disappeared. As long as someone was paying attention, even if his power was fully on, Tetsuya wouldn’t disappear. Which is good, because he gets lonely more and more easily with each passing day.

He thinks they all do, shunned by the world as they are. They were supposed to blend in – something that was too easy for Tetsuya and too difficult for everyone else, making it an impossible task for them all. That loneliness could only fester, and it was probably what linked them back together in the end.

With Kagami’s help, Tetsuya had found the others, one by one, and reformed his family.

And Akashi has kept them together since.

Slowly, Tetsuya’s eyes close against a wave of dizziness. The heavy blanket of humidity both weighs him down and relaxes him, slowing his pulse, quieting his breathing. He feels focused, but also a little blurry. The sounds around him float together, rising and falling as those near and those far vie for his full attention. Certain sounds stand out and keep coming back. Beyond the birds, and the cicadas, and his family’s bickering, Tetsuya hears the sounds of violence – of bones colliding, of skin connecting with skin, of laughter that eats its way into his gut and sits unpleasantly like acid.

Someone’s fighting in the park, really fighting, like they’re looking to break bones or worse.

He opens his eyes, and the sky doesn’t seem so bright anymore. All he can hear is that fight. Carefully, he tips his body forward and puts his weight on his feet. “I’m leaving,” he says, sparing a glance for his family before walking off. It would be nice if one of them heard and decided to follow, but he can handle this fine by himself, too.

◈ ◈◈◈ ◈

With Kuroko acting as the referee, Seijuro decides to not get in between the fight and just let the idiots figure it out for themselves. Kuroko’s been the mediator of the group since they were children, always the quiet voice of reason when everyone’s talents get in the way of their rational thought. Seijuro’s confident leaving this to him.

After using the collar of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face, Seijuro puts his palms on his hips and leans his weight on the heels of his feet. His back bends easily, and he calms his breathing while staring up at the smooth blue sky. He could stay like this for a long time, if the others would just be quiet.

“I swear! I didn’t do it on purpose; you can’t take the ball away from me,” Kise whines, hugging the ball to his chest like a comfort item. With Kise’s power being one of perfect copy, of blending in by way of taking on the physical abilities and expressions of those around him, it’s really a wonder that Kuroko was able to call him on it in the first place. It’s not entirely visible, especially when they’re playing basketball.

Then again, they’ve been together their whole lives.

Midorima pushes up his glasses. “Don’t be a fool. Intentional or not, you broke the rule. Just give the ball to the others and let’s get on with it.”

Kise just whines louder. “Midorimacchi! You’re on my team – aren’t you supposed to take my side?”

“Boring,” Murasakibara yawns, only just managing to get his hand up to cover his mouth. “Just ask Kuro-chin.”

Aomine spins around immediately. “Oi, Tetsu, make a call,” he says, head tipped back with a grin on his face that says he knows Kuroko will side with him. “Huh? Where’d Tetsu go?”

Seijuro turns towards the bench, trying to keep the initial spike of unrest out of his chest. When Aomine looks for Kuroko, he always finds him, even if Kuroko’s using his power. Seijuro’s almost aced that trick, too, but he misses sometimes. Still, when he takes stock of their piled towels, their water bottles, and the incredible lack of Kuroko, Seijuro knows he’s really no longer at the court.

“He was feeling lightheaded,” Midorima says, conviction wavering. “Maybe he went to lie down in the shade.”

Kise pouts, because it’s not a fight and because it’s not as if Kuroko disappearing is something rare. “Awww Kurokocchi, no fair. If we can’t use our powers, you shouldn’t be allowed to, either.”

But Seijuro’s other self is restless, and that unease puts a bad feeling in his chest. Maybe Kuroko is just resting in the shade, but he’d insisted on watching the game, so the odds of him leaving to take care of his own health seems unlikely.

“He wouldn’t just walk off,” Kagami says, fragments of his power leaking out – it feels like anger; it tastes like copper and electricity. Seijuro glares him back into check, because if Kagami gets going, then Aomine will follow, and Kise can’t back down when they’re both powered up. They don’t need raw rage and power right now, they need steady forward momentum in the right direction.

Seijuro looks back at the bench. He’d just locked eyes with Kuroko not long ago, so he can’t have gone far, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t gotten himself into trouble already. “Midorima.” It’s enough to get everyone’s attention. “Help me find him.”

All of them were created with purpose, to fill a specific role in battle as if they were born for it. Murasakibara, the iron wall of defense. Kise, the infiltrator. Aomine and Kagami, the instinct-heavy sensory-boosted foot soldiers. Kuroko, the spy. Akashi, the all-knowing leader. Midorima, the infallible marksman.

But shooting isn’t a superpower, so what Midorima really has is a collection of elevated senses, specifically centered around his eyes. However, even when his power is on, Midorima can’t see Kuroko if Kuroko’s power is also on, not unless Kuroko directs his attention. Or unless Seijuro helps him.

Combining powers among them was not an idea born in the lab, but one that came from Kuroko. Unsurprisingly, it works rather well. They’ve always been stronger as a unit, even if they didn’t always realize it. The researchers were fearful of them, of their strengths, and that fear had been pushed into the Miracles until it festered into a hatred for one another.

Kuroko had seen past that.

If only Kuroko would stop wandering off, likely getting into trouble, without dragging one of them along, he’d be unflawed. But then, Seijuro doubts they’d all be so fond of him. It’s easy to think of Kuroko as nothing but soft, and small, and someone to protect, but in reality he’s brazen, and protective, and stoic. And just a little bit stupid.

Seijuro brings out his other self – arguably stronger but less empathetic – and opens himself up to his power. Beside him, Midorima does the same. It takes focus and trust to weave their powers together, to form a whole out of two parts that want nothing more than a fight for dominance. But with something – _someone_ – important on the line, they manage it. This Seijuro can see the future, and Midorima’s vision has an incredibly vast range – when combined, Seijuro can cast his net further, seeking out who he wants instead of just predicting for whoever’s in front of him. He quickly puts their powers to use.

A whirlwind of outcomes surround them, sweeping past Seijuro’s eyes at a speed he can only catch with Midorima’s help. Endless near-futures to sort through. And then the one he’s looking for knocks the breath out of him – Kuroko taking a kick to the stomach and falling to the ground. Frantically, Seijuro pulls on that thread, unwinding it to trace the path that will lead him to Kuroko, until the future fades away and becomes the present once more.

His power goes dormant, and he’s left with shaking hands and a vision that won’t stop dancing in front of his eyes.

“We need to hurry,” he says, not sparing a glance for the others as he runs out of the court.

◈ ◈◈◈ ◈

Tetsuya doesn’t realize that his power’s turned on until he walks up to the fight and no one notices him.

“Hey,” he says, and despite the fact that he’s not loud, his voice carries like always. There are three people on the ground, covering their heads or holding up backpacks like shields. They’re young, teenagers. The five men attacking them are clearly not. “Why are you beating up a bunch of kids?”

There’s a downside to Tetsuya’s power – once he’s been seen, people generally don’t want to let him out of their sight again. He unsettles people, and they don’t like that, so he goes from being a shadow to a spotlight. But he wants that right now.

One of the men steps away from a kid and laughs. “Why not?” he asks, pinching the brim of his hat and turning it all the way around. “They thought they could look at us funny, and we wanted this spot to ourselves.” He has a sharp glint in his eyes. “You have to discipline kids who don’t listen.”

Tetsuya assumes this man is the leader of the group, because once he ignores the kids and focuses on Tetsuya, so do the others. The three teenagers scramble to their feet, not shy about taking the opportunity to run. Tetsuya waits until they’ve disappeared from view to cast his gaze around the space he and the men are occupying. “There are plenty of other empty areas around here,” he says, trying to direct their gazes away so that he can disappear. “You could have just gone over there.”

Some of the men fall for the misdirection, but the leader doesn’t.

“Oh?” He walks forward, an exaggerated sway in his step that sweeps his feet out and sways his hips and shoulders in opposite tempos. Like a cobra readying to strike. “But we wanted this one. They should have left if they didn’t want to bleed.”

Tetsuya sees the attack coming and tries to dodge, but he’s weak today and off-balance. He takes the punch grazed across his jaw, and a kick plants itself firmly in his stomach. Tetsuya stumbles backwards, trying to catch his center of gravity before he tips over, but it’s a losing battle. He ends up on his ass, wincing as he coughs and gasps for breath.

He’s never been a good fighter – wasn’t ever supposed to be one. No one explained it to him, but Tetsuya had overheard conversations when researchers and caregivers forgot he was with them, or didn’t notice him walking into a room. Originally, there had been funding for thirty children. Everyone involved with the project assumed that half or more of the children would die within the first year, so after factoring in expenses, thirty was the number that they had settled on. But a researcher had already found Tetsuya, a child with a naturally low presence already, and someone got greedy.

The Miracles were created as a result of human greed and the desire to dominate and control other countries in war. The project was meant to create soldiers – excellent fighters with heightened strength and senses so that they could be set loose on a battlefield and be expected to come back still alive. All of the surviving Miracles, even Akashi, can fight. But Tetsuya was a side thought, a pet project that blossomed out of a curiosity for spy work and reconnaissance. He is invisible, he is excellent at reading people – he is the ultimate weapon in aiding his teammates from the shadows. But no matter how much he trains, and no matter how physically capable he _should_ be, he can’t get himself to fight. It’s just not what he’s built for.

A disappointment to everyone, except his family.

And even that’s been debatable throughout the years.

“Hey, I know you.” A different man walks up to the leader, draping his arm over his shoulder. “You’re one of those monsters they let out of the factory.”

Something in Tetsuya’s stomach jumps; he’s not used to being recognized.

“I think they should have just put you lot down instead of letting you go.” With surprising speed, the man runs forward and kicks at Tetsuya.

Tetsuya’s able to get his arms up to protect his face, but the power behind the blow still pushes him onto his back. He feels the impact of the man’s boot all through his arms and into his chest.

One of the others makes a sound of assent. “Maybe we should put him down ourselves.” Tetsuya doesn’t see it, but a kick slams into his ribs, pushing all of the air from his lungs. His eyes widen in pain. “Freaks like him don’t deserve to live.”

Fear wells in Tetsuya’s throat, but he’s in so much pain that it’s all he can do to just roll over and curl into a ball to protect himself. He can’t breathe, he thinks one of his ribs is broken, and turning on his power wouldn’t even do him any good right now – he can’t actually become invisible, after all.

He takes another kick to the stomach, and the man wearing boots slams his heel into Tetsuya’s back. For the first time, Tetsuya cries out, a choked sound that barely gets past his lips but shakes him to his core all the same. His body opens up as he arches away from the pain in his back. He can’t think past everything going wrong, but his fingers dig into the ground as he tries to pull himself away. At least the kids are gone. He’ll be a martyr if he has to.

“Where are you going?” The leader plants his foot on Tetsuya’s chest, shoving him hard back into the ground.

The pressure against his ribs, his lungs, his frantic pulse, is too much, and Tetsuya grits his teeth, fingernails scraping against the man’s leg as he tries to buck his weight up. He can’t fight, but he also doesn’t like where this seems to be heading.

The man bends forward and flashes a knife in front of Tetsuya’s eyes.

“You really…” Tetsuya gasps against the increase in pressure against his chest, likely a silent warning to shut up. Like hell he’s going to listen. “You really have the ability to kill someone?” For most people, Tetsuya thinks that killing is impossible. Shutting off empathy for long enough to intentionally end a life… just because he and his family were created to kill doesn’t mean that everyone else was. Tetsuya firmly believes in the goodness of people.

Maybe that’s his own greatest weakness, and the only blind eye he’s ever turned in his life.

The man laughs, and the edge of the blade bites against Tetsuya’s skin as it slides up from the hook of his jaw to the top of his cheek. “Could I kill a person? Maybe not.” When the knife presses against Tetsuya’s lips, there’s blood on it. “But you’re not human.”

◈ ◈◈◈ ◈

Seijuro can’t get the image out of his head – a foot connecting with Kuroko’s gut, and Kuroko either unable or unwilling to defend himself. He stretches his legs out further, running at a faster pace, and the rest of the Miracles keep up easily. He won’t slip into his top gear – won’t let any of them – because Kuroko wouldn’t want them to, but every second he spends away from Kuroko feels like a cut on his skin.

“Hey, Akashi, how bad is it?” Kagami asks, speeding up briefly to come alongside him. The tension among the group is thick enough that Akashi could grab it in a fist and brandish it as a weapon.

“Be ready to fight.” Seijuro feels the bolt of shock race through the others, causing all but Midorima to look at him sideways as if trying to judge for themselves just how far this might have to go – and just what kind of shit Kuroko could have gotten himself into for Akashi to say that before they’ve even arrived. Seijuro knows that the fear cinching his chest can be felt by the others and is reciprocated in them – and, beyond that, he knows that they can feel his anger, too.

Not anger at Kuroko. Never at Kuroko.

Seijuro takes a sharp right, following the path illuminated by the future he’d seen as it cuts through a gap in the trees and bushes. The scene opens up before him, and he falters, legs locking up for a moment too long. His foresight hadn’t gone this far ahead. Kuroko hadn’t been bleeding.

Kise lets out a choked little noise. “Kurokocchi…”

Before Seijuro can get his wits back to give an order, Kagami and Aomine take off, passing the rest of them. All thoughts of keeping their powers locked up are gone – they’re showing their true colors, deadly auras smoking red and blue like a dancing fire. Kagami gets in the first punch, knocking the man off of Kuroko, and Aomine takes on two at once to open up a path for the rest of the Miracles.

The men who had attacked Kuroko quickly pull away and regroup, but Seijuro stops them from running by tapping his heel to the ground. The _humans_ all fall to their knees. Right after, he sends out a pulse of his power to keep the Miracles in check, reining them wordlessly back in to take up a defensive ring around Kuroko.

At the front of the group are their spears – Aomine and Kagami, with fisted hands and bared teeth, are nothing more than attack dogs choking on their leashes. They’re both in overdrive, and their power floods out of them. If Kuroko’s attackers weren’t locked on their knees by Seijuro’s power, fear of Aomine and Kagami would have brought them there. Even Murasakibara and Midorima, the most difficult two to get a rise out of, are angry, their powers somehow still in check, but Akashi can feel the threat of that thread snapping. Everyone here is willing to kill or die for Kuroko – not because he’s strong and asks them to, but not because he’s weak and needs them to, either. They’ve just all managed to recognize that he’s the most important among them.

Kise, the gentlest among them, is on the ground with Kuroko, knees dirtying in the kicked-up sod and dribbled blood. “Kurokocchi, are you okay?” Kise’s never quiet, and he doesn’t manage even now, but the strain in his voice says he’s trying. With a hand hooked on Kuroko’s side and his other arm dug in behind Kuroko’s shoulders, Kise slowly helps him up into a sitting position. Seijuro can’t see anything of Kuroko except his back, but it’s evident from the tightness in Kuroko’s body that the motion pains him. Kise stiffens, too, his hand leaving Kuroko’s side to touch his face, and his lips pull back from his teeth. “What did they do to you?”

If Kise’s angry, then it’s bad, and the rest of the Miracles react to his anger in kind. All of their powers turn on and dial up, filling the clearing in the trees to capacity. The backdraft they’ll all experience for using so much of their powers is something they’ll deal with later – the present moment is too overwhelming to look past.

Seijuro walks up until his knees bump Kuroko’s shoulders, and it settles him when Kuroko leans his weight back. Carefully, Seijuro puts his hand on Kuroko’s head, fingers shifting until they’re buried in his hair. “Tetsuya,” he says, applying pressure with his fingertips when Kuroko tries to tip his head back to look at him. He’s predictable. When Kuroko gives up on that, Seijuro starts combing the dirt and blades of grass out of Kuroko’s hair. “Why didn’t you tell us you were leaving?” The anger makes his voice distant, flat, and everyone is in tune to it.

“Akashi-kun.” Kuroko’s voice is strained. He was already weak – sick from his powers and weighed down by the sun – and he shouldn’t have thought he could handle anything like this by himself. He shouldn’t have. But he did. Or, more likely, he didn’t think about it at all. Kuroko turns his head towards Kise, maybe as a substitute for looking at Seijuro. “I did tell you. I thought you would hear.”

With his power off and everyone’s attention squarely focused on him, no one can miss Kuroko’s words. They spear through Akashi with enough force to knock his power back, to make this part of himself reconsider.

Kuroko had told them, and no one had heard.

No one had been listening.

Kuroko had been within all of their orbits, had had their attention on him moments prior to his departure. Even if his power slipped out unconsciously, one of them should have heard him. _Seijuro_ should have heard him. Blame had never been on Kuroko, but now it settles onto the rest of them, and Seijuro puts more on himself than anyone.

Someone works their fingers into the spaces of his own, slowly peeling his hand out of Kuroko’s hair. Seijuro looks down, away from the men he’d been glaring at, and finds that under all the dirt Kuroko’s fingers are as pale as always, but they’re strong. Not that Kuroko’s ever been weak. “I’m not blaming you,” Kuroko says, still looking at Kise, who’s resolute but not vicious – a safer place for Kuroko’s eyes. “But you can’t kill them just because I stuck my neck out and got bit.”

He could. They all could. They all _have_. From the moment they received combat training, they’d all had to kill people, until it meant nothing. They’d all cried the first time, and some had cried the second and third times, but they’d eventually gotten over it. Kuroko, he thinks, is the only one who still had nightmares by the time they were fifteen. When he was younger, Seijuro attributed that to weakness, but now he sees it as one of Kuroko’s greatest strengths.

The strength to care. The strength to empathize.

“Kuro-chin, let us help.”

No matter Kuroko’s morals, every one of the Miracles is ready to kill the men who dared lay their fingers on him. Seijuro feels the bloodlust – he thinks that even the _humans_ do.

“You’ll help by leaving them be, Murasakibara-kun.” There’s a softness to Kuroko’s voice when he talks to Murasakibara, one that betrays fondness, and protectiveness. Something that doesn’t always come across when he addresses the others. “Kise-kun, please help me up. We should leave.”

That’s not good enough for Seijuro, who wants to tear down the world and then himself because Kuroko’s hurt and not willing to seek retribution himself. He wants to push his power to the limits and make those _humans_ commit atrocities to themselves. But he can’t, because Kuroko said not to. Helping Kuroko is more important, and in this instance, help doesn’t equal a bloodbath.

“No. Ryota, don’t move him. We don’t know how injured he is yet.” Because Seijuro is the leader, because he’s absolute, Kise stops trying to lift Kuroko and instead settles him more or less in his lap. With the pressure off his knees, Seijuro steps around Kuroko, body rotating so that he’s always facing him, so that he doesn’t have to let go of his hand. “Taiga. Daiki – show those men out of the park.” With his eyes on Kuroko’s face, it’s harder for him to get the next words out, but he manages. “Don’t kill them.” He keeps Midorima and Murasakibara back to maintain a protective barrier. They’re not in a warzone, but that’s Seijuro’s default thinking.

Kuroko closes his eyes and sighs, and it’s like the life bleeds out of him. He slumps into Kise’s chest, and from the way Kise adjusts his weight, Seijuro guesses that Kuroko’s gone boneless.

But he doesn’t seem unconscious – his pain tolerance is higher than that, and even factoring in his lightheadedness from earlier, he should be able to hold out a little longer. So for a moment, Seijuro just stares, trying to keep his grip from becoming too tight on Kuroko’s hand.

It looks painful. It looks like it’ll be more painful in the coming days. Kuroko’s bleeding from a few spots – his cheek, his eyebrow, his lips. The left side of his jaw is already swelling, the skin threatening one hell of a bruise. There’s a cut on his neck, too, and Seijuro understands that if they hadn’t finally noticed Kuroko’s absence – or if they had noticed any slower – Kuroko would be dead.

Seijuro doesn’t need his anger for this, so he closes his eyes and exchanges his personalities out, a simple switch for him these days. He’s stronger now than he was as a child. Maybe someday he’ll be able to be whole again.

“Who did you have to save this time, Tetsuya?” he asks, fondness in his voice despite everything. The question is meant as a distraction for Kuroko, something to keep him awake a while longer. Seijuro’s not too worried about a concussion, but it’s hard to tell. He reaches up to wipe the blood away from Kuroko’s mouth, thumb dragging on his lips until he figures out that the blood is coming from inside instead of a split lip – a cut tongue or cheek, or maybe a tooth knocked loose. He takes his hand away.

“Some kids,” Kuroko says, voice faint. He breathes slowly for a while, focusing on filling his lungs before letting the air out in steady exhales. Kise holds him up, though it’s obvious that he’s unsure where to put his hands, while Seijuro tries to feel out the extent of the damage. “Seijuro…” Kuroko opens his eyes, a small well of tears falling out, and his hand flutters out to catch Seijuro’s wrist. “It hurts.”

Fuck. _Fuck_.

Kise looks up, and their eyes lock. Seijuro doesn’t need his power to know they’re thinking the same thing.

Seijuro twists around, looking over his shoulder at the spot where Kagami and Aomine disappeared down the path. He doesn’t want to leave the park without them – splitting up even to get rid of those assholes was bad enough – but Kuroko needs to get to a hospital.

“Go,” Midorima says, taking off his glasses to clean them. He’s never been shy about making the decisions when Seijuro can’t make up his mind. “I’ll wait here for the idiots and catch up with you. Cancer isn’t a particularly lucky sign today, and my good luck token is back at the court.” He looks past Seijuro, eyes tilted up, presumably at Murasakibara. “Libra is the luckiest sign today.”

“Fine. Get our stuff from the court as soon as they’re back. Meet us at the house.” If plans change and Kuroko has to stay the night at the hospital, Seijuro can call from there. There’s too much unnecessary motion if they go to the hospital in groups, like playing tag with too great of a head start. Seijuro gets to his feet, and Kuroko lets go of his wrist. “Kise.”

With as much care as possible, Kise gets his feet under himself, Kuroko gathered in his arms, and raises him gently as he stands. “Sorry, Kurokocchi,” Kise murmurs, adjusting his hold as Kuroko winces into his shoulder.

Murasakibara crowds closer to them, brushing Kuroko’s hair off his forehead. “Aka-chin, he has a fever.”

“We’re leaving,” Seijuro says.

By the time they reach the street, Kuroko’s unconscious.

◈ ◈◈◈ ◈

Tetsuya wakes up slowly, confused about when he fell asleep. He remembers being too warm, and dizzy, but feeling ultimately safe in Kise’s arms, and then he doesn’t remember anything else. After a few slow blinks, pieces of his surroundings fall into place, and he recognizes his bedroom. He has no memory of the hospital, though he knows that he must have been there, because Akashi would never be satisfied with anything less.

At least he wasn’t bad enough to warrant an overnight stay. Hospitals can be dangerous for them – more dangerous than other places, which is really, unfortunately, saying something. Sometimes just visiting hospitals at all is dangerous.

“No internal bleeding, but your fever was incredibly high.”

Tetsuya moves his eyes towards the voice until Akashi comes into view, seated stiffly at the end of the bed. He looks tired, and worried, and Tetsuya wonders if he should feel more guilty than he does, for running in and saving those kids. They didn’t deserve that pain, but Akashi and the others don’t deserve this anxiety, either.

“You got lucky, Tetsuya.” Akashi stands up, walking forward a few feet and then sitting on the bed again, close enough that Tetsuya can see the strain in his eyes. “You told me it hurt,” he says, and that strain moves across his face, tension playing out his usually so carefully hidden emotions like a theater act just for Tetsuya.

Ah. Tetsuya doesn’t remember saying that, but he understands why those words would have brought panic into Akashi’s otherwise calculated emotional responses. Admitting pain, especially in front of his family, wasn’t exactly Tetsuya’s modus operandi. He’s broken bones, and he’s been shot, and stabbed, and all of that pain has made him cry and scream and faint, but he’s never said those words. He feels like he should apologize – for a lot of things, probably – but Akashi looks too strung out, so Tetsuya will do it later.

“Where are the others?” he asks instead, but he reaches out to set his hand on Akashi’s forearm so that he knows Tetsuya isn’t dismissing him or trying to avoid him in any way.

Akashi flicks his wrist. “Somewhere else. I told them they couldn’t come in until you woke up.” Likely not out of fear for Tetsuya’s safety – they’re all exceedingly gentle with him, unless they’re playing or training – but probably because tensions are sure to be up, and they already take any opportunity to bicker or throw punches at each other. Cramming that energy into a small bedroom without Tetsuya conscious to act as mediator would definitely not end well. Akashi can handle them when he’s level-headed, but he’s clearly not at the moment, so it was probably the right call.

Then again, it could just be Akashi’s possessiveness taking the wheel.

“Seijuro.” Tetsuya whispers it, because a name is a delicate thing, especially Akashi’s. Sometimes, he thinks, if he says it too much, Akashi will stop listening, or it’ll stop feeling so important. “It’s not your fault.” He can’t apologize yet, but he can do this. “I left, and I’m glad I did. I don’t regret helping those kids, though I’m very glad everyone came to save me.” Slowly, afraid to break something, he reaches out and brushes his fingers along Akashi’s pink bangs. “You should let them in before they break down the door.” The probability of Aomine, Kagami, Kise, Midorima, and Murasakibara all sitting outside Tetsuya’s bedroom is high, and he wouldn’t put it past the former three to get impatient and barge in. “Help me sit up?”

Akashi bows forward, and Tetsuya catches his eyes closing. For a moment, they sit like that, Tetsuya’s fingers in Akashi’s hair as if comforting someone grieving. Then Akashi reaches up, plucking Tetsuya’s hand from his hair to hold between both of his own, cradled in front of Akashi’s chest.

“I’ll let them in,” he says, lifting his head until their eyes meet, “but you’re not siting up yet. You have a broken rib, so you’re staying horizontal for the rest of the day.” It’s a command, but there’s no force behind it, none of Akashi’s power. Akashi may be absolute, but he hasn’t used that power on Tetsuya in almost two years.

Tetsuya smiles, turning his hand in Akashi’s grip to intertwine their fingers. “Okay, Akashi. I promise I’ll stay down.” After a moment of them not moving, Tetsuya pulls his hand away and hits the side of it against the top of Akashi’s head. He takes on a sterner tone. “Now, let them in.”

For a few silent seconds, Akashi just stares at him in open surprise. But then he’s laughing, and it’s quiet but honest in its breathlessness. That’s all Tetsuya can ask for, really, so he closes his eyes and just listens, comforted knowing that he won’t be forgotten anytime soon.


End file.
